


Skype to the Rescue

by AbbyWolf (Gemmi999)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cybersex, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 02:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmi999/pseuds/AbbyWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Stiles has a boyfriend, which is normally cause to celebrate, but nooo. Stiles' boyfriend can't actually be in the same room as him right now because of stupid werewolf <i>reasons</i>. Which doesn't stop them from getting freaky together, oddly enough.</p><p>AKA the one where Stiles is a firm believer in the power of the internet, and Skype.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skype to the Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> It's May 1--National Masturbation Month! Enjoy!

Stiles twirls around in his chair, grinning because he can’t help it--not with Derek looking at him and judging him (even if it was only over skype) and growling a little. To be completely honest, the growling is more than a little hot. Which is why he’s twirling around in his chair and slightly ignoring his boyfriend. Just a little ignoring, really.

“Stiles--” Derek’s voice is harsh and a little jagged, which Styles completely blames on his wifi connection, and not his own antics because his antics are amazing and wonderful and-- “Stop it.” Derek’s voice interrupts Stiles train-of-thought. “I’m trying to...”

“What?” Stiles laughs. “Have a serious talk? Because really, the two of us? Talking? Emoting?” He shakes his head a little. “You just want me to sit still so you can actually see my dick, admit it.”

Because yes, okay, fine. He is twirling in his chair, but he’s doing it naked because he knows there’s no point in actually being clothed. Not when his dad is out for the evening, on call--which Stiles knows means he’s really out sitting in a speed trap because he doesn’t want to listen to Stiles moan about how it’s so completely unfair, how he finally has a hot boyfriend and he isn’t even allowed within spitting distance of him because Derek thinks the relationship is too new and he doesn’t trust himself, not yet.

Really, Stiles thinks as he puts a foot down to stop the chair from spinning. He was getting a little dizzy after all, which seems like a perfectly logical reason to stop the spinning--not because his boyfriend is growling a little louder and its making his blood rush down towards his dick and all he really wants to do is jerk off but he can’t while he’s spinning so yes, okay, stopping the spinning now. 

“Finally,” Derek mutters and Stiles just grins because he still can’t believe that they’re here, at this place, the naked place, the place where both of them are naked on camera and all Stiles wants to do is stare at Derek a little, but it’s intimidating and makes his stomach squeeze up a little, which is why he was spinning to begin with.

“So, ah...” Stiles says, unsure of what else to say, unsure of how to ask if he can start touching himself now because Derek is beyond hot, mega hot, and its making Stiles flush and have his dick throb and he just wants to touch it, fucking already. But he won’t until Derek starts because Derek is totally the one in charge now. He’s the one setting the pace. He’s the one that thought Skype would be a good alternative to never ever seeing each other again until Derek’s wolf calmed down and could be around Stiles without marking him up within a few seconds.

“Your hard.” Derek always was good at pointing out the obvious, but Stiles doesn’t want to be sarcasm guy right now, so all he does is nod. Because, um, duh. “If I were there, I’d lick you, taste you...” Derek breathes and its rough and harsh and Stiles fucking wishes Derek was there right the fuck now because seriously? Seriously? He can’t just promise blow-jobs and not be there to deliver them.

It’s fucking unpatriotic or something.

Stiles stares at the grainy screen and sees Derek reach down and slowly wrap his hand around his dick. It’s probably the hottest sight Stiles has ever seen, and Derek’s doing it for him, which is just short of un-fucking-believable. Stiles reaches for the lube and squirts a generous portion onto his hand, before he reaches down and grabs his own cock.

He wants to close his eyes and just shudder because it feels amazing, but he can’t close his eyes because then he wouldn’t be able to see Derek close his eyes and moan. And the moan is loud and pure liquid sex and honestly, just--if Stiles were to patent that moan, bottle it up as liquid sex, sell it to horny teenagers all across the country, he’d be a billionaire. No fucking doubts.

“You look--” Derek starts to say but then his fingers run over the tip of his dick and Stiles moans loud enough to drown out whatever it was Derek had been about to say.

Stiles tightens the grip on his own dick and squeezes just hard enough to make him see stars for a second and its amazing, it would be better if Derek was the one touching him, better if they were together, but fuck modern technology is great. He’s all for modern technology. He loves it. 

His other hand reaches down to tug on his balls a little, just a tiny bit of pain makes him feel like he’s soaring, but as soon as his fingers touch his ball Derek moans louder than before and Stiles is looking up and ignoring his own cock because Derek is clearly about to orgasm and fuck, Stiles did that, kind of, sort of, just by being naked and masturbating and just. FUCKING HELL.

Derek has his head thrown back and his neck is pulsing and and he’s holding his breath and just--just--the entire image is burned into Stiles mind, forever. Fucking hottest thing on Earth. All he’ll ever need to think about when he’s masturbating because it is the fodder of a thousand wet dreams, a million wank sessions, infinite daydreams. Fucking hell.

And his wet dream is on screen right now, coming his brains out, because of Stiles, because of Stiles feeling his own balls, which was apparently a kink Derek has that Stiles didn’t even know about but he could 100 percent get behind. Seriously, fucking hell.

Derek breathes heavier afterwards, his body just laying there, with splatters of come all over it, and it is enough to make Stiles orgasm without even another tug on his balls. Derek is enough to make him orgasm because Derek is fucking hot as sin and he just masturbated for Stiles over the internet and Stiles has it all seared into his brain and Stiles did it for Derek and this entire relationship right now is totally amazing. Fucking hormones are the best.

“Hot. As. Sin.” Stiles says a few minutes later when he’s caught his breath. 

Derek just murmurs a quiet agreement. He’s sitting at his desk and his eyes are at half-mast and he’s about to fall asleep, which Stiles can totally understand because that’s what coming your brains out does, it makes you sleepy and cuddly, and all of a sudden Stiles wishes that they were actually together, not separated by a couple miles and the entire internet, because if Derek was there Stiles would make him hold him, cuddle him, and fuck but he didn’t even know he wanted Derek cuddles until now but it’s all that he can think about, all he wants.

Fucking werewolves and their damn need to mark their mates, and fucking Derek for being responsible and not wanting Stiles to make a decision he’ll regret, and fucking Stiles’ DAD who had the fucking balls to agree with Derek and told them that he expected them to be mature and responsible until Derek got his fucking instincts under control.

Balls.

Because of course Stiles would get a boyfriend and not even be able to appreciate the efforts of said boyfriend in person. Because that was just his luck. His burden. His...Stiles is a bit too tired to think of whatever else it was. It sucked, but still. They were trying, there was technology, it was only for a little while. 

And all he really wanted to do was sleep, so. He stands up and stumbles to his bed, not even bothering to turn his Skype off. Derek is already mostly asleep in his chair and Stiles refuses to fall asleep in his chair when there’s a perfectly good bed a few feet away. He basically falls into it and moans because the comforter is soft and he’s cold, and he should be underneath the comforter really. That’s the way it works, right?

He has just enough energy to pull it back and make himself into a Stiles burrito before he feels the edges of sleep creep up on him. “Night,” he mutters vaguely towards the screen. He’s asleep before he hears Derek say ‘night’ back.


End file.
